Ana.

Please,

let me be

simply

Ana.

Let me live

as an essay without abstract,

pirate’s trunk without treasure map,

and undocumented comet.

Define me, if you must,

as an improvised patchwork being,

ephemeral mirage,

and gypsy collage.

Don’t make me claim

a country of ancestral descent,

language of origin,

or family tree.

I will not pronounce

a bulleted outline of my life’s agenda,

exegesis of past occurrences,

or report of my present sentiments.

I do not fit into

a personality test result,

list of implied obligations,

or eternal legacy of inborn traits.

Save your myopic documentary of this soul’s aura

for my epitaph

floating from a nomadic breath of wind

down to the rise and fall of the restless Pacific.